Crybabies
by Kingster
Summary: For once, Dean's having trouble sleeping, not Sam.


Author: Kingster

Title: Crybabies

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Season 1, episode 10 or 11

Warnings: Implied incest (but nothing graphical)

Disclaimer: No harm, money or ownership involved

Summary: For once, Dean's having trouble sleep, not Sam

:::

I don't know what wakes me up. A sound probably, cause all the lights are off.

Dean stands by the window. I'm surprised. If one of us isn't sleeping it's usually me. He's barefoot and shirtless, only wearing jeans. His arms are crossed. He's fiddling with the amulet, pulling it back and forth over his chin.

"You can't sleep?" I ask and yawn. He's startled. He turns to look at me, but only for a second.

"Hey," he says. "Apparently not."

There's something in his voice. It's not unsteady (it rarely is), but it's a little rusty.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head.

"Dean..."

"It's fine, Sam. Go back to sleep."

"I'll get right on that," I sigh as I get up and pull on a pair of pants, "when you make any kind of effort to convince me you're actually okay." I sit on the edge of the bed and rest my head in my hands for a few seconds before I walk over the cold floor. I regret not putting socks on.

I put my hands on his shoulders. He doesn't move or react even he's warm, and my hands are cold. I don't understand how he can be so warm in this chilly room. It's like he's radiating heat.

"Go back to sleep, Sammy," he says in a strict voice.

"Not before you talk to me."

"It's nothing to talk about!" He turns abruptly. His eyes are red. "I'm your big brother," he yells, "and when I say there's nothing to talk about - well, then there is nothing to talk about, and when I tell you to go back to bed - you fucking do as I tell you!"

There's nothing about him that scares me. The wild look in his eyes, the angry voice, the closed fists.

I open my arms. He moves back a bit, looks at me with an apprehensive look before walking into the embrace. He puts his arms around me, presses his face against my chest. His body jerks in the rhythm of his unsteady breaths. I stroke his hair and hush him quietly.

"Why d' you have to be so tall?" he mumbles into my chest. "I feel like a kid. Why can't I be the tall one?"

I chuckle. Dean: never to upset to crack a joke.

"You're the pretty one," I tell him. "And I think that's generally better than 'the tall one'."

"You say that just to make me feel better."

I laugh and kiss his head. My fingers trace his neckline and the short, straight hairs.

"Yeah, you're right," I joke. "Being the tall one is better. At concerts, you know, I can see everything. Oh wait - I never go to concerts cause I'm busy hunting ghosts with my brother! I almost forgot!"

He pulls back, wipes his face with the back of his hand and puts on a displeased look.

"Ha ha," he says lamely.

"Yeah, so tell me what's wrong before I make more things up to make you feel better."

He hesitates.

"I thought you were going to leave me today."

Bad conscience like small needle points in my body. I squeeze his hand.

"I thought you said goodbye," I counter.

"I thought you wanted me to!"

I shrug. In a way I wanted to, I guess.

"I changed my mind," I say meekly and wonder when was the last time I saw him this upset. It's been a while. Maybe when we where kids? Or maybe when I went off to college. I can't quite remember. I place a hand on his cheek. He accepts it for a few seconds and closes his eyes, but then he push my hand away and turns his is back to me.

"Go back to sleep," he mutters. "Let me be messed up alone."

I sigh, and take step closer to him.

"I love you."

There's a hitch in his breath.

"You have to love me, you're my brother," he says.

I can't keep myself from smiling. How long can you play the pigheaded though-guy part without it being parodic?

I lean in and kiss his neck.

"Whatever you say, Dean."

Then I go back to bed. "Good night."

"Night, Sammy."

The pillow is soft, the bed is warm, and I'm tired, but I know I'm not going to sleep just yet. I count the seconds, but nothing happens. The seconds turns to minutes. Two minutes, three minutes. I can feel his anxiousness.

And the more time passes, the harder it is. We've been here before. He's getting more and more uneasy. He scratches his neck, taps his feet erratically.

"Dean," I say when I'm tired of listening to it. "Do you want to come to bed?"

He freezes. Then, a deep breath, and... exhale.

"Eh, yeah, " he says and clears his throat. "Yeah. Sure."

He walks towards the bed, stands by the bedside looking at me for a bit, then pulls his jeans off and gets into the bed. I move over and offer an arm for him to lie on. He settles in on my arm, and it makes me really happy, it feels right. It's a relief I can make him feel better.

"Please don't leave me," he says quietly into my skin.

I bury my face in his hair.

"Okay," I say, fingers crossed on my right hand.

We lie quiet for a few minutes. Then he leans over and rests his head on his elbow. The look in his eyes gives me chills.

"I don't know if I can deal without you, Sam."

I turn away. I thought we were done with the crying for the night.

"I'm sure you can," I say, not looking at him.

Dean chuckles.

"What?"

"We're both crybabies," he snickers and runs a finger slowly down the side of my face. "It's fucking pathetic."

I laugh with him, and when he suddenly attacks me we wrestle a little (Dean wins, but only because he had the best position to start with) and the thickness in the air dissolves gradually.

"Now," Dean says, after pinning me to the bed, "it's about time that you lie on my arm for a while so I don't have to feel so small all the time." He moves around, and I nestle my head on his shoulder.

"Well, you beat me at wrestling. Doesn't that count for something?"

"No not really. I had to. You were in a horrible position, my self esteem would have been broken if I didn't."

I grin. Of course.

"I'll kick your ass next time."

He scoffs. "No way!"

"I'm not just the tall one," I tease. "I'm also the strong one."

He slowly tightens the grip around me and hisses into my ear:

"Baby boy. You better shut up. I love you and all, but..."

"... I'm entering a world of pain?"

He punches me in the arm. "You ruin everything for me! Yes - world of pain! What else?!"

I crack up.

"Crybaby."

"Sammy..."

"Yeah, yeah. World of pain, I get it."

:::


End file.
